Evolution
by TheOriginalFutureKitty
Summary: What if things had changed for Johns and Riddick? Here's a non-canon POV piece about how or why something like that could happen. Rated T for language and sorta slashy sensibilities.


Johns...William J. Johns asleep not two feet away. Out cold with bandages around his shoulder, and an I.V. tube stuck in his arm. The holy man and Jack are asleep.

Richard B. Riddick would have hijacked the shuttle and left everyone on that planet. Maybe Riddick would have survived. but Johns had changed the game with the one thing Riddick had hoped never to hear:

"The truth is…is I'm tired of chasin' you."

To track an animal, you have to 'become' an animal...Tired of walking on all fours, Johns?

Bad news, that. No one else plays the game like he does. He knows he's the only one that can keep up with me; It's why I broke out in the first place. Gotta keep him in the game.

"My advice? Ghost me mother-fucker. It's what I'd do."

I duck away from the gun shot blast, to shield my eyes from the flash.

"I want you to remember this moment, how it could've gone, but didn't."

My turn.

Take the gun, tell him to remember this moment. He holds up his hands in mock fear, backs away on cue. Johns forfeit? Not in this lifetime, he's not that kind of pussy.

Maybe the hype is tired. Needs a time out. The drugs are making him weak.

Doesn't suit him.

There's something else going on here. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he's lookin' for something. The truce, of course, that much is obvious. He's looking for something else.

Let him get his breath. Leave him there with his big gauge.

Shape

Shazza: tough, but no primal instincts. Too bad, she would have been useful.

Now we're all in a new prison, with those things as our guards. Should be a good hiding place, but there's a breach in the hull somewhere. A noise in the wreckage gives me an idea: Time to see where Johns' head is at.

"Come on Johns. You got the big gauge."

A pause.

"I'd rather piss glass. Why don't you go fuckin' check it out?"

In the darkness, I smile. The drawl makes him sound amused, but I know the truth. He's afraid. Lettin' me take lead. Hell, I'm half scared too. Johns is tough, but I'm the only real predator here. My plan?

Go the other way. Find a place to hide and figure somethin' out.

They burn while I wander. Too far, it seems. Settle into the darkness, wait for it to leave. Can it smell?

Doesn't matter, the boy is my decoy. Bad timing, fate, whatever. He runs, like the prey that he is. I wait –better to let them start feeding with the kill they can confirm between their teeth, then I run back to the group.

One of those things is ridin' my ass. One I didn't see. I dive away from the light of someone's flashlight. The creature flies right into it and the big gauge. Seconds pass while the other survivors look around. Me and Johns wait for it to fall.

He might be a hype, but his aim is dead on.

Speaking of which: He's pretty when he's high. Eyes slide shut. Heads falls back. And the way he smiles, like all is right with the world, for that one moment, and he couldn't fuckin' care less what you think. But it hides the truth: He wouldn't be a hype if it weren't for me. It's a crutch, like steroids before a big game. But I'm usually the big game. I guess that would make me a 'regulation' game.

But this ain't no regulation game. No rules, no time outs and winner takes all.

Tries to hide his fear by talkin' about the 'girls' fear. Ugly words lead into fightin' words. I hold him back before he does somethin' stupid. Remind him of our game. The look he throws says it plain and simple; Not now.

I stare right back at him, letting him know the game hasn't ended, that this time out depends on me, not on the other travelers. He glares at me for a moment, then looks away as he pretends to listen to Fry. He's outnumbered, and I'm the wall he's being backed into.

He reluctantly goes along with Fry's plan-it's not a hair-brained plan. We don't have any other choice. No one mentions it, but it was his idea to hold off on the cells, it's why we're stuck in the dark with lighting tubes, bottles of liquor and flares.

Doesn't take long for us to gather what we need for our little walk through the park.

"Looks clear."

Oops.

"I thought you said it was clear?"

He's pissed. I want to laugh, but I notice something: His reflexes are too fast, even for him. I can hear his heart racing. Muscles tensed unnaturally. He'll need a fix soon.

"I said it looks clear."

That thing should've taken him out. We don't have much time. And those things are blockin' the way. I need time to think.

"How's it look now?"

We're playin' a new game now. On the same team and everything. He's the captain, I'm the star quarterback. Might as well fuck with him for old time's sake.

"Looks clear."

Shape

Paris: Wondered how long it would take for him to make another attempt to run to his death. Nice chap, bet he was good for stimulating conversation. If he were still alive, I'd kick his ass –no point killing him, cuz' then Johns would have to try and kill me, and that wouldn't bode well for anyone. Any way you look at it, we've lost half our light. No skin off my back, but it makes it harder for the others to keep up.

But now's a good time for somethin' else to happen. That's how these stories always go.

Fry catches it first. No point lying. Spill the girl's secret. She's why we can't get through. She's why those things are too close. Why we're goin' in circles. Johns sees his chance to step in as the new team coach.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say Johns was throwing the game. Maybe I misunderstood his intentions.

The holy man steps in like a good referee, I move on. Johns moves with me. An interesting chat. Pushing my buttons. No way he thought I'd listen to a proposition like that and let him live. He knows I don't do kids.

Fuck, he wants to get left behind. Always was Johnny on the spot; always thinking; he saw an opportunity and seized it. Then made the plan work. But he's got a reputation to maintain, even now. Can't just go out like a pussy. Turns out he was goin' for a whole different prize. I take the bait.

"I was just wondering if we need a bigger piece of meat."

And the tournament begins. The main act, what everyone's been waiting for. No crowds, just a gaggle of scared travelers frozen in their tracks while me and Johns finish the game.

I was wrong; he doesn't need a fix. I don't know when he slipped it in, but he's played us all. He starts off like any other time, layin' in a good blow, but from that point doesn't put too much effort into it. This doesn't feel right, but I know he doesn't have any hidden weapons. Never the less, I don't stop. I always see things through to the end. I take and easy slice out of his back. He goes down.

Takes his time getting' back up. Feels around for his gun. I stand back, waitin' to see how this'll play out. He'll either shoot one of those creatures, or he'll try and shoot me. He looks scared, but determined, just as he should. But he's movin' too slow. And he ain't lookin' for me.

Reloads his gun. Aims and pulls the trigger. A click. Doesn't seem concerned that he didn't load shells. Reloads again. Pulls the trigger.

What the fuck?

Click

Getting' the monkey off his back.

Those things learn fast; by the time he's reloaded the weapon a third time, one of the creatures moves straight for him. Nails Johns in the shoulder. Johns barely flinches. Must be a double or triple dose of morphine. Explains why he was so relaxed during our little fight. The creature is holding him up, studying him, waiting for the next move. Having dropped the assault rifle, Johns doesn't have one. The creature jerks back, preparing for a final attack. I'm already moving.

Johns falls like a sack of meat as I bulldoze him into the dirt and away from the massive jaw that closes like a vice on empty air. I move as fast as I can, half carrying, half dragging him. Johns grabs the gun as we race past it, raises it and fires. The blast leaves my ears ringing. Almost seems like an afterthought, but that wouldn't make sense. Time to think about that later. Right now, I've got to get him back into the light.

There's something poetic in that, I think. I live in darkness, some would say that I am darkness. But Johns is out of his element. Best merc in three systems, but somethin' in his soul can't, or won't, acclimate to the world I live in. I forced my own evolution, a step he won't take to catch me next time. He's gone as far down into Hell as he cares to go. Makes me wonder how the game is gonna end.

The distance between ourselves and our fellow survivors seems endless. I'm half crawling, half running, dragging him every rugged step. It's gotta be playing havoc with that hole in his shoulder.

"Get off me."

"Nope."

"You won't make it."

Snort.

"You think this changes things? If you don't let me go, I will take you back to SLAM."

Now there's the Johns I know and love.

"Thought you were tired of chasing me?"

Johns doesn't reply. He won't admit what just happened. Lettin' me take lead again. By then we're back with the others, who look confused. None more so than Fry. I shrug and drop Johns on her. I almost don't want to do it, but I'm the only one that can carry the cells. It's a death sentence, and she knows it. But she props him up and gives me a curt nod of her head.

Shape

Fry: She had better instincts than Paris and Shazza. She was mentally stronger than Jack and the Imam with his much vaunted faith in Allah. But she had her own demons. Probably felt guilty for surviving the crash when her captain -the better person- didn't. Maintaining the balance, I suppose.

Covered Johns with her own body, and then she was gone. Up into the night rain. I didn't look this time, like I did with Paris and Imam's boy, or even with Johns. Didn't want to.

Fact is, I'm tired of walkin' on all fours too.

Funny, how Johns can see things I can't, and I'm the one with the shine job.

"I'm thinkin' you could've died somewhere on this planet…"

It's not like he knew something I didn't; how circumstances can bring out the best or worst in an individual. Meaning there's such a thing as choice. Made me the quarter back, made me take responsibility for these people by playing the bad ass.

Manipulated me into my own fucking redemption.

And all because he's tired of chasin' me? Somehow, that doesn't seem right.

I snap out of my reverie to find him looking at me with sleepy eyes, a faint look of amusement making his lips curl up at the sides.

"Go back to sleep Billy."

"Sure thing Ricky."

I flip him the bird, and he snorts. His gaze falls to the girl and the holy man and he smiles -that lazy relaxed smile I like so much. He's high again –I triple dosed him.

Something I gotta know, though: if this was all a plan to get me to get him off the planet. There's always the possibility he knew he wasn't in any shape to save anybody, so he got me to do it for him, then he'd come out the hero.

"What?"

"You takin' me back to SLAM?"

He smirks.

"You want to go back?"

Smart ass.

"You know the answer to that."

"I meant what I said. Far as I'm concerned, you died somewhere on that planet."

I thought he was giving up when he first cut me loose with a promise of release. He hadn't given up at all. I don't get played often, but I won't kill him. Because I know now what he was looking for.

He was looking for me.

I guess I've always known, somewhere, deep inside. But I was too much the animal to pay it much mind -always focused on survival...

He frowns, takes a halted, shuddering breath. Morphine must be wearing off. Being addicted to it makes it harder to kill the pain. I jump up and administer another dose. His face smoothes, and his eyes slide shut.

I get up, lean over him, take a deep breath. Sift through the alien scents of the planet, the desert, the smoke from the crash, the sulfur from his gun and breathe him in.

I'm too close, the heat of his fevered skin like an oasis to a lion in the desert. I feel as if I've made a universe shattering discovery. Is it really this easy?

I let my lips brush over his jaw as I pull away. I avert my eyes for a moment, to collect my own wildy swerving emotions. When I look back at him, his eyes are open. The new dose is sinking in, and everything's all right with the world. It's all in that beautiful smile. I can't help but smile back even as I stare at him in wonder.

Like I said, he's pretty when he's high.

Fini


End file.
